The rogue to forever, p.5
The Rogue to Forever, page 5
Lachlan’s jaw tightened. Mistake. Was it?
He thought of Rosebery’s letter—cold, indifferent, calculating. He thought of a wedding proceeding without the bride. He thought of Horatia’s passion… He could not deny the truth any more than he could deny his next breath.
“It is a mistake,” he said, voice rough. “A foolish one.”
Her brows drew together. “And yet you are still here. Still holding me.”
“Aye,” he murmured. “Because I canna make myself let ye go.”
Horatia’s gaze dropped to his mouth, and something in his restraint snapped again. He kissed her once more—slower this time, deliberate. He wanted to taste her desire. Lachlan wanted to brand her as his so no other would ever compare. Her lips moved with his, tentative at first, then more certain, as if she were learning the shape of pleasure and discovering she had always been capable of it. A soft sound escaped her, and it went straight through him, hot and sharp. Lachlan broke away before he went to far. He rested his forehead against hers, breathing hard, his hands braced at her waist as though she were the only solid thing in the world. He still planned to seduce her but the gardens were not the place for such things. Not when they had a perfectly good bedchamber in his castle to use.
“Ye shouldna’ tempt me like that,” he whispered.
“I did not realize you were so easily tempted,” she murmured back, and there was the faintest thread of amusement in it—amusement, as though she were not shaken by what they had just done or perhaps she was, and she refused to show it.
Lachlan let out a short laugh that held no humor. “Lass, I’ve wanted ye since the moment ye looked at me with those damned brave eyes and pretended ye were not afraid.”
Horatia stilled. The teasing expression faded, replaced by something more vulnerable. “Honestly,” she said. “A part of me is always afraid.”
His hands tightened at her waist. “Of me?”
“No,” she said. Her gaze lifted, steady again. “I am afraid of the unknown. I don’t like surprises.” She smiled. “But you,” she explained. “You are the best surprise. One I never dreamed could happen.”
She might come to hate him once she realized his deception, but it might be too late for either of them when that came to light. Because she was right. She was more than he could ever have dreamed of too. That scared him a little. Soon he would seduce her though. He felt compelled to now.
Lachlan drew back enough to study her properly. She was beautiful and soon she would be his in every way. He would claim her. Make her his in truth. But not just with his body. She would carry his name and be his forever—even if he had to trick her into that union. “Let’s go back inside lass. I doona wish ye to catch a chill.”
Horatia didn’t argue with him. She allowed him to escort her back inside. The entire time he plotted what he would do next. He could not allow Rosebery to have her. She was far to important to him. That should frighten him how she had come to mean so much to him so fast, but he wouldn’t think to heavily upon it. Sometimes fate worked in a person’s favor, and who was he to deny where fate had led him…
Five
Horatia could not sleep. She had been tossing and turning for what felt like hours. No reply had come from her cousin. Had he read the missive Lachlan had sent to his estate? Why had he not responded? Did he trust Lachlan so implicitly? Even if he did, surely he must realize that her lack of a chaperone would lead to her ruination or perhaps being in Scotland had altered his sensibilities. Did he truly believe that no one in London would discover the time she had spent alone with Lachlan at Montclaire? Especially after that kiss…
She sighed.
Worrying solved nothing, but it was impossible to quiet her thoughts. Worse still, she could not entirely ignore the fact that she did not wish to leave Montclaire. The castle might be drafty, as Lachlan had warned, yet it was also enchanting, just as he had promised. Its charm had grown on her. But it wasn’t only the castle; it was its brooding yet captivating master. Lachlan was far too irresistible, far too handsome. She was drawn to him in ways she had never imagined possible. Horatia had long believed herself incapable of such emotions.
She had endured several seasons without so much as a flicker of interest in the countless gentlemen who had sought her hand. As the daughter of a duke, she had no shortage of suitors. Her dowry alone was enough to draw fortune hunters, though they weren’t the only men vying for her favor. She was not vain, but she was aware of her appeal: golden blonde hair, striking blue eyes, and a figure considered enviable. Yet none of it mattered. She wanted more than to be a gentleman’s decorative possession—a trinket to bolster his status in society’s esteem. She wanted love, and she could not pinpoint why exactly, but she thought perhaps, much to her astonishment, she could have that with Lachlan.
He treated her differently from other gentlemen. He did not seek to place her on a pedestal or admire her from a distance. With him, there would be no cold, indifferent marriage. Lachlan would want her by his side, always. She imagined that life with him would burn with passion, not languish in frigid propriety. Closing her eyes, she could almost envision what it would be like to be with him. Her body heated at the thought, and she flung off her blanket, frustration mounting. This was getting her absolutely nowhere.
Horatia slipped out of bed and reached for her dressing robe. She tied the sash tightly and left her bedchamber, her destination clear: the library. Perhaps a book would distract her restless mind, redirecting it away from Lachlan. Yet even as she resolved to read, a small, foolish part of her wished for him to seduce her. What madness was this? Such a thing would be ruinous. It would be a mistake so large she could never escape the ramifications of that potential disaster. She had to leave Montclaire in the morning. If she stayed even a moment longer, she feared she would willingly tumble into his arms, and his bed—and that would lead only to regret. He had shown her kindness, but he had offered nothing more. He had not offered her anything except his aid after her carriage accident. She must not misinterpret his actions.
She should not be romanticizing this situation as if it was far more than it actually was, and she had to get all the silly fantasies out of her head once and for all…
The corridors were dim, but Horatia moved with confidence, having explored the castle earlier in the day. When she reached the library, she hesitated at the door. She had expected darkness but found the room warmly illuminated. A fire blazed in the hearth, its light flickering against the walls. Several candles had been lit, casting a soft golden glow over the space. For a moment, she thought the library itself had anticipated her arrival, welcoming her into its quiet embrace.
But no, the room was not empty.
A large figure sat in one of the leather chairs by the fire, engrossed in a book. Lachlan. He had not noticed her entrance. She paused, taking the opportunity to study him. The firelight glinted off his auburn hair, bringing out golden strands she longed to touch. His strong features were softened in repose, but there was no denying his intensity. She wanted to lose herself in his deep blue eyes, to close the distance between them.
Gathering her courage, Horatia stepped forward. It wasn’t until she stood directly before him that he looked up. His gaze locked onto hers, and a slow, knowing smile curved his lips.
“Ah, lass,” he said, his voice husky. “Did ye need something from me?”
Horatia licked her lips, suddenly at a loss for words. Did she need something? Yes. Yes, she did. She needed him, with a desperation that both frightened and thrilled her. But how did one ask a gentleman to seduce her? This might be the gravest mistake of her life, yet she could not deny the pull she felt toward him. Some things were simply inevitable. Her voice trembled as she spoke. “And if I do?”
“If it is within my power to grant it,” he replied, his tone roughened by something unspoken, “it will be yers. Just tell me what it is ye need, lass. I’ll see ye have it.”
This was everything she had never dared to dream of, and yet it was exactly what she had always wanted. Boldness surged within her, an unfamiliar but exhilarating sensation. She took another step closer, meeting his gaze head-on. Her voice was steady as she made her demand. “Kiss me again.”
Lachlan blinked, startled. For a moment, he did not move, and doubt crept into her heart. Had she misjudged him? Had she made a terrible error? Panic welled within her as the silence stretched on. Surely, she had not imagined his interest. He had kissed her once already… She would expire from embarrassment if he turned away from her. But what if she had? What if—?
Lachlan must have been imagining things. Surely Horatia had not just walked into the library and boldly asked him to kiss her? Her seduction could not possibly be so easily achieved. Shouldn’t she have been running in the opposite direction rather than strolling toward him with such apparent leisure? Rising from the chair in a single, fluid motion, his breath caught as he pulled her into his embrace. If she truly desired a kiss, he would gladly oblige. Their earlier kiss had not been nearly enough.
He lifted a hand to cup the back of her neck, leaning down to press his lips to hers. At first, the touch was soft and tentative, as he began to familiarize himself with her taste again. But when she slid her arms around his neck, her soft curves pressing against him, a groan escaped him. Unable to resist, he deepened the kiss. When she opened her mouth to him, he slid his tongue into her warmth, their tongues tangling as he was utterly consumed by her. His body responded immediately, hardening with desire. Lachlan wanted more than just a kiss—he wanted her, all of her. He ached to worship every inch of her body.
This was too much, too soon. He had never anticipated this. She was betrothed to his rival, and his original plan to seduce her had been a calculated scheme. But Horatia was proving to be far more than he had ever expected. She deserved better than to be used as a pawn in his feud with Rosebery. And beyond that… he realized he cared for her. Deeply.
With immense effort, Lachlan drew back, lifting his mouth from hers. He ignored the raging desire to untie her dressing robe and explore her body further, despite the memory of her hardened nipples pressing against him. The temptation to take her to the heights of pleasure was nearly overpowering, but he had to stop. For her sake.
“Why did you stop?” she asked, breathless. “Kiss me again.”
Oh, how he wanted to. Every fiber of his being screamed for him to pull her back into his arms. But something—his conscience, perhaps—held him back. “You should return tae yer bedchamber,” he murmured, his voice heavy with longing. “Ye doona deserve the likes of me.”
“Isn’t it up to me to decide that. Only I can decide what is best for me.” she countered, raising a brow. “I want you.”
Her words struck him like a blow. He closed his eyes and groaned. How easy it would be to carry her upstairs and claim her as his. But he could not allow that. “Lass…” His voice was ragged. He was fast losing control, his resistance hanging by a thread. “Ye doona know me.” Lachlan wanted to make her moan with pleasure so great she screamed his name as she climaxed. He wanted…hell, he wanted her. It was as simple as that.
“I know enough,” she replied. “You came to my rescue when I needed it. You’ve been nothing but kind.” She licked her lips, and the sight nearly undid him. He clenched his fists, silently pleading for strength. “I want you. Isn’t that enough?”
“Nay,” he said firmly. “Ye doona understand what it is ye ask.”
“I think I do,” she said, her tone sultry. Horatia slid her hand up his chest, her fingers hovering dangerously close to his waist. If she ventured lower, she would discover just how much he desired her. Before she could, he grasped her wrist, halting her. This was not how it was meant to be. How ironic that she was now the one seducing him when his intentions had once been the reverse.
“Lass…” He shook his head, his mind racing. “Are ye not betrothed? Do ye think so little of the man ye are to marry that ye would tarry with me? Or…” His tone sharpened. “Are ye after a loftier title, thinking ye can secure it by lying with me?”
Her eyes widened, her expression a mixture of hurt and fury. Lachlan immediately regretted his words. He had gone too far. “Who do you think I am?” she demanded, her voice low but laced with anger.
“Are ye not to wed the Earl of Rosebery?” he asked, though his certainty faltered under her piercing gaze.
Horatia stepped back, folding her arms across her chest. She did not meet his eyes, and his heart sank. He had shamed her. When she finally looked up, her blue eyes burned with intensity. “Do you think so little of me, then?”
“Nay,” he said quickly, his voice thick with regret. “I think only the best of ye. That’s why I had to stop. I am no’ a good man, and I willna have yer ruination laid at my feet.”
“I see,” she said, her tone resigned but fiery. “You want me to preserve myself for my future husband. How noble of you.” She turned toward the door but paused, glancing back at him. “There is one thing I wish for you to know.”
“And what is that, lass?” he asked, his heart twisting.
“There could have been something between us,” she said, her gaze steady. “But you decided I wasn’t worth the trouble. Even if I were to marry Rosebery, the marriage is not yet complete. I am still unwed and free.” She lifted her chin defiantly. “And for the record, I was never meant to marry him. But your assumptions have destroyed everything we might have had. That is something you cannot undo.”
“I doona understand,” he said, the words catching in his throat.
“I don’t expect you to,” she replied softly, her voice filled with quiet disdain. “You believe I am mercenary enough to desire your title. And yet, I don’t even know what your title is. I have only ever known Lachlan—and that is the man I desired.” She shook her head, a bitter laugh escaping her lips. “But believe what you will. It seems you will regardless of what I say.”
With that, she turned and left, leaving him alone in the library. Lachlan stood frozen, staring after her. Had he been so wrong about her? If she was not Rosebery’s betrothed, then who was she? He had made a terrible mistake, and now he feared he had lost her forever.
Six
Horatia dressed with care, choosing one of her finest day gowns. Today, she would insist Lachlan take her to her cousin’s estate without delay. She had already overstayed her welcome, and the thought of remaining at Montclaire any longer made her stomach churn. What had possessed her to ask him to kiss her again like a common strumpet? She must have been entirely out of her wits. In that moment, all she had wanted was to feel his arms around her, to be made to feel special and desired—and for a brief, fleeting instant, she had.
But then he had ruined it all. The man had believed her to be Rosebery’s betrothed. What would he think if he realized how wrong he had been, that she was, in fact, the earl’s cousin? Would it matter? Would it change his view of her? And more importantly, why did she even care? Horatia sighed deeply. She had never concerned herself with a man’s opinion before. Why, then, did Lachlan seem to have such an unusual hold on her thoughts?
Leaving her bedchamber, she descended the staircase with purpose. Her trunks were packed, waiting only for a servant to load them into a carriage. All that remained was to locate Lachlan and demand he make the necessary arrangements to take her to Rosebery Park. He had claimed that Rosebery was his neighbor so hopefully the trip would not take too long.
“Good morrow, my lady,” the butler greeted her with a bow. “Might I escort you to the breakfast room?”
“Thank you,” she replied. “But if you would be so kind as to inform his lordship that I wish to depart, I would be most grateful.”
“Of course,” the butler said. “His Grace is in his study. Would you like me to show you the way?”
His Grace? Horatia froze, her thoughts spinning. She had paid little attention to how the servants addressed Lachlan. Come to think of it, they had not referred to him as “my lord” or anything at all in her presence. She had not thought it odd at the time, but now… She could not help questioning everything. What had Lachlan been hiding from her? Lachlan was not merely a gentleman or a neighbor to Rosebery—he was a duke. And Horatia had thought she had been the fool… Well, in some regards she had been. He had made a lot of assumptions regarding her. Was this why he had thought she sought a loftier title? Clearly, Lachlan struggled with trust and had allowed his assumptions to guide his actions.
“That would be wonderful,” she replied at last, forcing a smile. “I would be most obliged.”
“It is my pleasure,” the butler said. “This way, my lady.”
Horatia followed him down the corridor until they reached a door. The butler knocked and then opened it. “Pardon the interruption, Your Grace,” he said, “but Lady Horatia wishes to speak with you.”
Lachlan looked up, meeting her gaze, and she saw the realization dawn in his eyes. If he had hoped to keep his identity a secret, he had failed miserably. Why had he felt the need to hide the truth from her? And now, standing before him, she wasn’t certain she even wanted the answers to her questions.
“Come in,” Lachlan said, his voice low and wary. “We should talk.”
The butler closed the door behind her, leaving them alone. Horatia stepped closer, stopping just before his large wooden desk. Lachlan leaned back in his chair, his intense gaze locked on hers.
“Can you arrange for a carriage to take me to Rosebery Park?” she asked evenly.
“Ye doona believe he will come to fetch ye himself?” Lachlan arched a brow.
“He might send a carriage,” she replied curtly. “That is, if you informed him of my whereabouts.”
“And yet ye doona think he’d come for ye in person?” Lachlan pressed. It had not escaped her notice that he did not deny that he had failed to send a missive to her cousin. She should not be surprised, and yet, she was.
